


A Cup of Cheer

by notmyyacht



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas, Christmas Party, Drunk Clint Barton, Drunk Loki (Marvel), Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Fireplaces, M/M, Power Dynamics, Sloppy Makeouts, drinking competition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13123119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmyyacht/pseuds/notmyyacht
Summary: Tony throws a party on Christmas Eve and everyone's invited! Yes, even Loki. Clint isn't happy about it.





	A Cup of Cheer

**Author's Note:**

> For day ten of the 12 Days of Holiday Shipping Challenge! Prompt: Christmas/Holiday Party
> 
> Completely unbeta'd! Any and all mistakes are on me.

Clint hated this. He hated how Tony had vomited out Christmas decorations everywhere at the drop of a hat. He hated how on-board with it Nat was. He hated that the bar was lacking his favorite whiskey. And most importantly, he hated that _Loki_ of all people was invited to this damn Christmas party.

Clint needed another drink.

He walked over to the bar and ordered bourbon. Nat, who had volunteered to bartend, leaned over the counter at him.

“Clint, this is your third drink and it’s not even nine o’clock,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I’m going to need it if I’m going to have to put up partying with _him_ tonight.” Clint not-so-subtly glared at the god in question on the other side of the room. He shook his head. “I get it, he’s on our side now… but that doesn’t excuse-”

“No, it doesn’t,” Nat interrupted. “Nothing has been excused.”

“Then why is he here? How do we know he won’t kill us all before Christmas Day?”

“We don’t. So maybe you should stop drinking. If Loki makes a move, then you’ll be clear-headed and will stop him single-handedly.”

Clint turned to her then stopped at the look on her face. He sighed and rubbed his eye.

“You’re right. You’re right. I’m being paranoid,” he said.

“Maybe, but I don’t blame you. You don’t have to be friends with him, either.” She reached under the bar and pulled out a tumbler and large pottery jug. She gently poured the gold liquid from the jug into the glass. Clint wasn’t sure what she was filling it with, but when she finished, she nudged it across the bar.

“Here,” she said, “a peace offering.”

He picked it up and raised an eyebrow.

“ _Don’t_ spit in it,” she said. “ _Or_ drink it yourself.”

Clint slid off the barstool with a forced smile. He sucked in a breath, puffing his chest slightly, then made his way over to the other side of the room.

Loki had been lingering in the same corner for most of the party, with only Thor or occasionally Vision to talk to. Now he stood alone, nursing the last of his white wine and looking across the room with a blank expression. He placed the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray.

Most of the other guests seemed to either ignore him or spare a dirty glance at him. More than once he spotted Clint glaring. Not that he expected any less from him. Speaking of which, Clint approached Loki, only a single drink in his hand.

He held it up for Loki.

“Got you a new drink,” he said.   

“Thank you, Agent Barton,” said Loki, that shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Clint wanted to wipe it off with his fist.

“It’s not agent anymore.”

“Right, I forgot your organization disbanded.” Loki still hadn’t taken the drink and Clint was getting tired of holding it.

“You look well,” Loki said.

“I don’t have some asshole rummaging around in my brain anymore, so yeah, I’m doing better.” Clint’s grip on the tumbler tightened. He swore that if Loki didn’t take the damn drink soon, he was going to dump it all over that beautiful, well-tailored suit.

“How nice that people can change, isn’t it? Enemies can now be friends,” he said.

Clint clenched his jaw. Loki continued.

“We can even attend parties together without feeling the need to shoot each other with exploding arrows.”

Clint could almost hear Nat in the back of his mind telling him that Loki was only trying to get a rise out of him. He wanted to see how far he can bend this until Clint snapped.

“But you don’t seem like you’re having fun. This is a party and here you are, standing alone in the corner. What’s the point of coming to a party if you don’t want to have fun? Have fun with your new friends. Unless of course, you don’t actually have friends,” he sneered, spying a hint of agitation around Loki’s eyes. How does that feel, getting _your_ buttons pushed?

Still, Loki kept his cool and finally accepted the drink from Clint’s hand. He brought it to his lips, not once breaking eye contact with him. It wasn’t a graceful swallow, but one that he was probably using to stall to think of a zinger rebuttal.

Loki froze, the smirk vanished and his eyes wide. He looked down at his drink. He turned to Clint, eyebrows drawn together.

Clint took half a step back, ready to run. What the hell did Nat put in that drink? He half-expected Loki to collapse to the floor. Instead, a smile broke across his face.

“Where did you ever manage to get this mead?” he said.

Clint glanced over his shoulder at Nat, who smiled back with a wink.

 

Half a dozen shots later, Clint found himself staring across a table at Loki, whose face was paler as he swayed slightly in his seat.

“Had enough?” said Clint, reaching for his eighth shot. He wasn’t even sure what kind of alcohol was in his own glasses. All he knew was that it burned his throat and that he had more than half the room cheering for him every time he downed one.

Loki picked up his shot of whatever Natasha had been giving him. Something from one of the other realms. Van… something. It didn’t matter. It was getting Loki drunk as a skunk and Clint knew how to hold his liquor.

Loki smirked and downed the drink; he slammed the glass on the tabletop, cracking it in half.

“I’m just getting started!” he proclaimed. Thor clapped him on the back and laughed, his allegiance in this clear as day.

Nat –the architect of all this- leaned in close to Clint’s ear.

“He’s good at covering up, but you can tell he’s weakening,” she whispered.

“Let’s finish this,” said Clint, bringing his shot to his lips. He nodded at Loki, raising the glass slightly. Cheers fucker. He downed it.

The entire room went wild. Clint felt several different pairs of hands pat him on the back and shout his name.

“Hawk-eye! Hawk-eye!” Tony chanted, bringing out another bottle, ready to refill shot glasses. The entire room erupted into the cheer. Even Thor was chanting it. Loki shot his brother a glare and snatched up his next shot and swallowed it without hesitation.  

The chanting switched to loud “Oh”s and “Whoo”s. Someone whistled.

Nat took a step back from the table and high-fived Tony. Their brilliant plan was working.

 

The clock on the wall struck three in the morning.

Most of the guests had gone. Some lay passed out across the furniture. Most of the Avengers had somehow found their way back to their rooms… or if they were Thor, they settled for the middle of a hallway.

The place was trashed. Multiple glasses and beer bottles sat either empty or half full on tabletops. Where the glitter all over the floor had come from was anybody’s guess.

Clint couldn’t remember how he had gotten to the rug in front of the fireplace in the connected room from the bar area. In the corner sat the giant over-decorated Christmas tree with too much tinsel on it that Tony had insisted they get.

He blinked up at the ceiling, feeling pleasantly drunk and content to just stay there and listen to the soft Christmas music playing from the adjoined room. The fire to his left was warm and comforting.

“Mind if I join you?” came a familiar voice.

“Ssure,” Clint slurred.

Loki stumbled to the floor beside him and lay down on his right.

“Hey…” Clint started.

“Hey,” Loki said back in greeting.

“No, I mean _hey_. As in hey, who won? I forgot.”

“The Avengers did; you don’t have to keep rubbing it in…”

“No, not the New York thing. Our drinking competition. Who won?”

Loki paused.

“You passed out,” he said.

“I don’t think so.”

“You vomited on the table.”

“I think I would have remembered that.”

“You… surrendered.”

“Now I know you’re making shit up. I beat you, didn’t I?” Clint said with a smile.

“No- You…”

“I beat you at somethiiin’.”

Loki sighed in exasperation.

“Thor told me he had generously given the Avengers several jugs of the finest Vanaheim mead. Romanoff wanted to put it to good use. If it were any other drink…”

“Yeah yeah, sourpuss. Just admit you lost.”

Loki placed both hands over his face and groaned.

“You’re not going to throw up on me, are ya?” asked Clint.

“No, but my head is spinning…”

Clint propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at him. Loki brought his hands down and frowned up at him.

“What?”

“Big bad god got beaten by a tiny mortal man,” said Clint.

“Enough,” Loki groaned, turning away from him, but Clint wasn’t finished. He grabbed Loki’s shoulder and turned him back.

“Big bad _goood_ ,” he sang. He chuckled a moment then stopped, his smile fading.

Oh. This is why Natasha had started this. Here Clint was, lying on the floor with Loki, having a non-threatening talk. A drunken talk, yes, but a talk. They were _getting along._

Clint made a disapproving grunt and returned to his position of staring up at the ceiling.

Dammit Natasha.

He looked over at Loki, who also looked up at the ceiling.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” said Clint.

“I know.”

“Actually, it’s probably Christmas Day. What time is it…?” Clint made no effort to check the clock. Clock… time…

“Hey Loki?”

“Yes?”

“If you could go back in time and do it over again? Would you have brainwashed me?”

“Without hesitation. You were a valuable asset.”

“And if you could go back in time and do it all over again, would you?”

“What are you prattling on about?”

“Attacking New York. Trying to rule the world. Would you?”

Loki shrugged.

“If I knew then what I know now, perhaps not. I’d more likely go about it all a different way.”

“What, like not bring together the only ones who could stop you?”

“Yes, that for starters.”

“Would you still have brainwashed me?”

Loki thought for a moment. Unable to give a definite answer, he shrugged again.

“See,” said Clint, a smile returning to his face, “That’s what a like about you, but also what I hate about you. You’re so slippery and I can’t get a good look at you.”

“You could always turn your head,” said Loki.

Clint turned his head to the right; Loki was looking back at him, his gaze searching Clint’s face for something Clint wasn’t sure of. All he knew what that he wanted him to stop, for Loki to close his eyes and just let Clint look at him; to hold Loki in his sights and for once have the upper hand.

He brought a hand up and covered Loki’s eyes. Loki didn’t stop him. His dry lips parted; Clint watched as Loki’s lying tongue wet those lips over. It wasn’t fair. Loki could see right through him. Clint had taken care of that. Now Clint wanted a taste.

He pushed forward and covered those lips with his own. He felt victorious when Loki kissed him back. That’ll teach him.

Clint pulled away and dropped his hand from Loki’s eyes, which were closed. When they opened slightly, Clint moved in again, this time half covering Loki’s body with his own. Loki snaked a hand up Clint’s side as Clint placed both of his own hands on either side of Loki’s head.

They were all tongue and lips and teeth. Loki nipped at Clint’s lip, drawing the slightest bit of blood before quickly running his tongue over it. Clint kept him under him; Loki didn’t protest.

 

Clint blearily opened his eyes and cringed. Someone was shouting about it being Christmas morning, time to get up. They were being far too loud and the room was way too bright. He turned and buried his face into the body wrapped around him.

Wait. He opened his eyes, squinting at the face before him. Oh, right. That happened.

Clint swallowed thickly. How could he be such an idiot? He wiggled backward slightly, but those arms held strong.

“The others can wait ten more minutes for us,” Loki mumbled.

Clint found himself relaxing –or was he just too hungover to try another escape? Either way, he settled his face into the crook of Loki’s neck and closed his eyes. He’ll deal with it all later.


End file.
